Hello, hello! Today is an exciting day for two reasons!
Firstly, I can now announce that I will be releasing Wetherholt on Amazon on March 9th!!! That’s just a week and a day! 🥳🥳🥳
Secondly, I’m sharing the first letter you ever see written by Lissie—which also happens to be the very first letter in the book!
To: Antonette Dairton – Wetherholt, New Jersey, United States
From: Alice Dairton – New York City, New York, United States
February the Eighth
I don’t know how I will survive these long two months without you! Aunt Lily says that she wishes you could have come as well, but there “simply was not enough room.” She has about a million guest rooms, and mine is the only one occupied. I do not know what she plans to do with the other rooms. Surely she has no other guests coming! I certainly would not come just to visit her.
But here I am barely into my letter and already I see you shaking your head at my poor manners. I really am trying, Nett; I simply do not have the same natural talent for politeness that you do.
The train ride was absolutely horrid. Aunt Lily slept nearly the whole way, and I tried to observe the people around us, but only three people were in our train car: an older gentleman dressed all in green, a young woman with a lace-trimmed umbrella, and the young woman’s very old grandfather. The grandfather nearly fell out of his seat a few times when we pulled into a station, and his granddaughter would loudly exclaim, “Goodness gracious, Grandfather!” That would earn her quite a glare from the man in green, who seemed to be doing some sort of business.
If you were there, you could have helped pass the time, I am certain. As it was, I was on that horrid thing for ever so long with nothing to do. All my books were in my carpet bag, which Aunt Lily had forbidden me to touch, although it was only by my feet.
Perhaps the only good part of the train ride was the stop right before New York City when the train suddenly filled with very interesting people. I will relieve your mind by assuring you that I was very proper; not one person lifted their eyebrow, cleared their throat, or gasped at anything I did. There was one very memorable moment, however, and that was when an extremely nice-looking gentleman who was sitting behind me offered me his newspaper. I took it with great dignity, but I must say I had little notion of what my eyes passed over. For then was my only REAL chance to observe people. Here is what I found:
The gentleman who handed me his newspaper was quite taken with the young lady in the blue dress.
A man with a pipe and quite the stately mustache was also fond of glancing over at the young lady.
The woman in the blue dress was so preoccupied with staring out the window that I doubt she was even aware of the existence of either gentleman.
The wavy-haired boy was too young to really be thought of as handsome, though there was a certain hint of what may come as he gets older.
The older woman constantly spoke to everyone, but nobody seemed to know her.
That, my dear sister, is what I observed on the train. I would tell you more of my journey, but my hand is quite weary and I fear I will fall asleep upon the fresh ink.
Your Loving Sister,
Soon I’ll be posting Nett’s first letter—which is a response to this one. And then we move on to some character sketches! I’m so excited for you all to meet them!
Have a wonderful day!